The Jumper
by FleckedWings90900
Summary: Draco spends his first Christmas with Harry at the Burrow


At 2 years old, Draco Malfoy had been a content child. His mother had been a loving if slightly absent influence in his life, always being away in France for the shopping and socialising. She always took care to send him packages with the latest and most fashionable European clothing and cloaks.

At 4 years old he began his lessons. His father became a prominent figure in his childhood, as a mentor and role model. Draco was taught what a Malfoy did and did not do. He knew that when he grew up he should make friends with the 'right sort'. He should work his way to political power. He should find a girl from a good family, who could bring him wealth and influence over others, and he should marry her. He should producer an heir to continue on the Malfoy line. He should avoid associating with mudbloods, blood traitors, or the lower class.

At 11 years old, Draco had offered his hand and his knowledge to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and had been turned down. He wanted to help the small, spectacled boy who had looked so lost at Platform 9¾, and so he put on his best Malfoy mask, the one that had impressed all his cohorts, and proposed a deal. He had been so shocked and stunned when the boy had turned him down for the Weasel.

At 12 years old, Draco had persuaded his father that in order to be the best and most influential person in his year at Hogwarts, he needed to play Quidditch against Potter. He simply needed better brooms for the team so they'd win. When the Chamber had been opened, he led the taunting of Potter, and he had worked hard to always make sure he was seen by Potter. He wasn't sure quite why, but he needed the boy to know that he existed, that he was just as important and influential as the Boy Who Lived.

At 14 years old, Draco watched with baited breath as Harry had battled a dragon, muttering half insults under his breath, meaning none of them, just hoping the other boy would be alright. He had fearfully stared into the empty Black Lake for an hour wishing that Harry would resurface safe and sound. When Weasley had pulled Harry up to the surface, Draco had heaved a giant sigh of relief and had never appreciated the ginger more. After the maze, when Harry had come back clutching to Cedric's corpse and announced that Voldemort had returned, a horrible chill had swept over Draco as he realised the danger Harry was in.

At 16 year old, Draco had been coerced into doing a mission for the Dark Lord by his father. The thinly veiled threats towards his mother and his freedom had persuaded him to agree, but every time he made an attempt to kill Dumbledore it was half hearted, lacklustre at best. He didn't want to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, which was more of a home to him than Malfoy Manor ever had been. He didn't want to help Voldemort have access to Harry - he wanted to protect the other boy. But the feelings he had were unnatural, and would hurt his family, so he locked them away and tried so hard to forget.

At 17 years old, the Battle of Hogwarts had commenced, with both sides losing loved ones. Draco had been saved by Harry, but in the process had lost a dear friend. All of those regrets and fear had faded into nothingness when Harry had died though, and so Draco had returned to the sides of Narcissa and Lucius, even though they hadn't been a family for many years past. They were the only thing he had left.

When Harry had woken from death, Draco's heart had reawoken, and he couldn't hold in his joy. He ran away from his parents, from all the pain he had known through his life, and towards a new start with the love of his life, that he could deny no longer.

At 18 years old, Draco's new life had truly begun. He had confessed his undying love for Harry (he had always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic) and he had reciprocated. They had spent a year together, recovering from the war and getting to know one another as who they were, not as who they were meant to be as children.

On the 18th Christmas of Draco Malfoy's life he woke up, stretched and rolled over, to stare once more into the beautiful, peaceful face of his sleeping boyfriend. They were staying at the Burrow for the holiday, and Draco had felt more accepted by the Weasleys through the week. Harry sniffed and awoke, and grinned at Draco before a manic yet excited look swept across his face. He jumped up and ran downstairs, dragging Draco by the hand behind him. Draco protested going down, not wanting to intrude on the opening of presents. He was expecting none this year, having been disowned by his parents after betraying the Dark Lord and coming out of the closet. Harry was having none of it, however, and pulled him into the living room where the family was all sitting. Harry gently pushed Draco onto the last seat on the sofa, and then plopped down onto his lap.

The first thing to be passed around was the classic Weasley jumper. Draco had been informed that this was a tradition - each family member was given a jumper and put it on to open the presents and for the rest of the day. He watched with a smile on his face but a sadness within as each jumper was handed out - Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Hermione, Harry… and then Mrs Weasley walked over to him again, with a parcel in her hands. He tentatively opened the package, and couldn't help himself as a grin overtook his face and a tiny tear escaped from the corner of his eye. For inside the brown paper package was a jumper of Slytherin green, with a D in silver on it. He immediately pulled the jumper over his head and smiled with such childish glee that no one could doubt his delight. He watched the rest of the presents being opened, and couldn't bring himself to feel sad that he had none from his parents, because sitting with his boyfriend in his lap and a Weasley jumper on he had never felt more at home. He had never felt so much like part of a family.


End file.
